"Then where will heaven be at six o'clock this evening?" fairly shouted the sick man.
"Out there," replied the servant, hopelessly, pointing toward the window.
"And where will heaven be at six o'clock in the morning?"
"Over there." And Biggs pointed a trembling finger at the fireplace. Then, "Oh, sir, let's not—the doctor——"
"Hang the doctor," interrupted McMasters testily. "I've been thinking this thing over, and I've got to talk about it to someone."
"But don't you believe in a hereafter?" queried Biggs, a horrible note of fear in his pitiful voice.
For a moment the banker was silent; the massive clock ticked solemnly on. A coal toppled with a sputter and flare in the fireplace.
"Yes, Hiram," in a thoughtful voice, "I suppose I do."
"I'm glad to hear you say that," cried Biggs in very evident relief.
"Ah, if you could but tell me," continued the banker, "from whence we come, and whither we go?"